


The Wedding Crasher Affair

by JordanUlysses



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses
Summary: Five times Napoleon gets what he wants with a kiss, and one time Illya wins him with the same trick [prompt by Siri].





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Siri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri/gifts).



> This is, as always, for Siri.

“So … all we have to do is convince her not to marry this Mister …,” Napoleon looked down at the open folder, “Barrows?“  
“All you have to do, indeed,” Waverly cleared his throat. “Our reports indicate that the young lady is very much in love with him, so it might not be as easy as you seem to think, Mister Solo.”  
“Well,” Napoleon grinned at Illya, who did not return the smile, “if she doesn't fall to our charms, we can always tell her the truth. She'll listen to reason, surely.”  
“No, she wouldn't. We already tried that, and she didn't believe that her fiance would betray her like that.”  
“Right, that leaves our charms.”  
Waverly sighed deeply. “The wedding is set to be in two weeks, so there's not that much time left. There is a party in two days that Miss Carter will attend on her own, Mister Barrows being on a business trip. So that will be your chance.”  
Illya cleared his throat. “What about him?”  
“How do you mean, Mister Kuryakin?”  
“I mean … is he also in love with her?”  
Waverly shrugged. “We have no idea. He certainly acts like he is, but in the end it doesn't really matter. THRUSH will get the money if he marries her. Therefore the marriage has to be stopped.”  
Illya nodded sharply, his lips tight and ignored his partner's worried glance.  
“Well gentlemen, you have the dossier and two days to prepare for the party.”  
They got up and left the room. As soon as they were outside Napoleon turned to Illya.  
“Are you alright? You seemed a bit tense in there.”  
Illya walked on and Napoleon had to follow, until they entered their office.  
“I just …,” Illya put the papers on his desk, decidedly not looking at his partner. “It seems a bit crude, does it not? To have to break her heart?”  
Napoleon leaned against the door and shrugged. “Not as crude as THRUSH getting 45 million. With which they could … oh, I don't know, develop new weapons, hire new recruits, invest in research ...”  
“Fine,” Illya nearly snapped and then sighed. “I am sorry. I had a long day and this mission really interferes with the experiment I started yesterday.”  
“No problem. Say, I do believe I need a new tux for the party,” there was a gleam in Napoleon's eyes now. “I'll go and talk to Luise about it. Are you set with clothes?”  
Illya rolled his eyes. “You have a tux. So do I.”  
“Well, yes, but it's last years fashion and it's getting a bit tight on a few places.”  
“Which is why you should frequent the gym more often, my friend.”  
“Getting a new tux seems much easier,” Napoleon grinned. “See you later.”  
Illya watched him go and then sat down, reading over the dossier.

Half an hour later Illya made his way down to the labs, coming by the secretaries office. Napoleon was leaning against Luise's desk, on which she was sitting. His hand rested on her arm and he had turned up his smile, quietly talking to her. Her cheeks were red, but she shook her head again and again, until he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She giggled.  
“Yes, fine, I'll clear it with accounting,” she slipped off the desk and poked his side. “But that's the last clothing you'll get this year, otherwise accounting will have our heads.”  
“You are a darling,” Napoleon grinned at her and Illya hurried along, his stomach suddenly tied in a knot.

Two days later they were entering a big ballroom filled with people, Illya trailing in after his partner. They had a few agents stationed around the building, figuring that THRUSH would be there as well to keep an eye on Miss Carter.  
Illya had to admit, Napoleon was in his best form. There was an easy smile on his lips and he looked very handsome in the new tux.  
He spotted Miss Carter in a group of women on the opposite wall and had to touch Napoleon's arm to get his attention over the noise. Napoleon nodded and straightened his bow tie, before he made his way over to the group. Illya went the other way around and took a glass of champagne on the way, leaning against the wall not far from their target.  
Napoleon had approached the group, chatting easily with the women and slowly getting closer to Miss Carter. At first she had only glanced at him, but then something his partner said made her laugh and she turned her attention towards him, her eyes not leaving his face. Her pose was relaxed and she leaned close to him, obviously enjoying his attention. And Napoleon … Illya could tell he enjoyed hers as well. After all, she was blonde and petite, blue-eyed, exactly his partners' type.  
Now Napoleon took her hand, kissing it and she laughed delighted, letting herself be guided towards the dance floor. At least she seemed to yield to Napoleon's charm – if it continued so smoothly, they would be able to close this case quickly.  
Illya had always enjoyed watching his partner dance. Napoleon moved confidently, gracefully and with a beautiful woman in his arm it was a sight to behold. Still, he always felt a certain sadness at the sight. Once, when they had been out celebrating another defeat of THRUSH, and they both had been quite tipsy, Napoleon had grabbed him on their way home and flung him around, dancing to some imaginary music. They had laughed and Illya had felt so safe in his partner's arms, a feeling he had not been able to shake off. Even now he could remember it and he turned away, scanning the crowd for any possible threats. There was always the possibility that they could be recognized, especially when they were operating in New York, even though it did not happen as often as one would think.

The party went by smoothly for a change and Napoleon had taken Miss Carter out onto the terrace for some fresh air. They were sitting on a bench, hidden by some flowerpots and sipped champagne, giggling about something silly.  
“Can I see you again?” Napoleon asked a bit breathlessly, leaning towards her.  
She sought his gaze and leaned against him with a sight. “I don't know.”  
“We could go for dinner. I know this marvelous place in China town,” he put an arm around her shoulder and then kissed the top of her head. He could not see her smile, but he could hear it when she said yes.

“What I don't understand is, why did she agree to do on a date with you, when she is engaged? To someone she supposedly loves?”  
“Who knows?” Napoleon shrugged, straightening his tie. “I'm not gonna question it, if it gives me the chance to talk some sense into her.”  
“That's all you plan to do?” Illya looked down at his hands, keeping his tone casual.  
“Yes. What else would I do? Flirt a bit, maybe, some cuddles if necessary, a kiss as the last resort,” Napoleon's tone was light as well, but Illya could feel how his partner watched him in the mirror. “Anyway, let's check the microphone once again,” Napoleon tapped against his chest, where they had secured the cable. Illya got out his communicator, switching it on for a last test.

The first hour was rather boring, but that was part of the job. Illya sat in the car, parked opposite the restaurant, enjoying some cookies himself and listened to the conversation. Napoleon and Meryl talked about this and that, society, gossip, the weather, the food, and Illya found her laugh very annoying. Finally, after cheesecake, Napoleon invited her for a walk. Illya followed slowly in the car and then parked and got out when the couple disappeared into a small park. He spotted them sitting on a bench hidden by some bushes and kept his distance.

Napoleon had put his arm around her shoulders and she smiled up at him, obviously enjoying the touch. He slowly leaned down, but suddenly she drew away.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I … want to kiss you. If I may.”  
“No,” she got up abruptly. “Don't you read the papers? I'm engaged.”  
“If you are engaged … why did you agree to go on a date with me?”  
“Oh you men, does it always have to be about … that with you?” she waved her hand. “I don't like being on my own, and you seemed fun company, that's all.”  
“And your fiance?”  
“He's on a business trip.”  
“And what would he say to you spending time with me?”  
She stared at him angrily. “He doesn't care. Besides, it's none of your business.”  
Napoleon sighed. “Will you sit down again? Please?”  
“Why?”  
“So I can explain to you why it is my business. I wasn't entirely honest with you.”  
She slowly sat down at the other end of the bench. “Don't tell me, Napoleon isn't your real name.”  
“I'm afraid it is. What I didn't tell you is that I work for an organization called U.N.C.L.E. and we are very concerned about your marriage.”  
She sighed. “Well, I should have known you people would show up again.”  
“It's our job.”  
“Yes,” she rearranged her scarf. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced. It's all fine.”  
“Somehow I find that THRUSH's funds growing is not something I would describe as fine.”  
“Like I said, it's none of your business.”  
“Meryl … you are an intelligent young woman. Surely you must see the bad things THRUSH does, and you can also imagine what THRUSH could do with your money.”  
“And surely you must see that I am not only intelligent, but also my own woman, which means I can and shall do as I like,” she got up again. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Solo, and I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors,” she turned around and walked off briskly.

“That didn't go well,” Illya joined Napoleon on the bench.  
“You don't say,” Napoleon stretched his arms. “Well, we have to rethink our strategy.”  
“We could kidnap him before the wedding,” Illya said with a straight face.  
“I think … I'll try talking to her once again before we have to resort to that.”  
“As long as you don't kiss her.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You said that would be the last resort, but she obviously doesn't want to be kissed by you,” Illya was suddenly glad the darkness was hiding his face.  
“Hm,” Napoleon got up. “Come on. Waverly isn't gonna be happy about this, so we have to look into Miss Carter and her thrushy fiance some more.”

A week later Napoleon made his way up a staircase to Miss Carter's flat. He carried a big bouquet of flowers, and Illya was stationed in a car outside. It seemed no THRUSH agents were around, but you could never be too careful. Napoleon rang the bell.  
“Oh, it's you,” Meryl pulled a face when she saw him, but stepped aside.  
“Thank you,” Napoleon handed her the flowers. “These are for you.”  
“Lilies. You've looked into me, haven't you.”  
“It's ...”  
“Your job, yes, I know,” she interrupted him, putting the flowers on a little table at the side. “Listen, whatever you have to say, say it. My fiance will be returning soon from his appointment.”  
“Do we have to stand in the hallway?”  
She glared at him, but led the way into a spacious living room.  
“I guess I won't get a drink,” Napoleon said, but hurried on talking at her expression. “I would just like to talk to you about THRUSH again.”  
“I really heard enough about them.”  
“That sounds a bit annoyed. So may I assume you are not entirely in favor of them?”  
“You may not assume anything. I am entirely in favor of Richard. That's all that matters.”  
“But you see, Richard works for THRUSH. And whatever he may have told you, he's playing you, to get your money.”  
“And he told you that.”  
“No, but … listen, even if his emotions are genuine, THRUSH won't let him off the hook.”  
“They are genuine. He loves me. And … I don't care.”  
“Last month, my partner and I prevented a virus designed by THRUSH, which would have made people infertile. Before that, they built a machine that could vaporize people. They have built nuclear spaceships, killed people, assassinated politicians, cheated, robbed and are responsible for so much bad in the world. Are you really telling me you don't care about what they could do with your 45 million dollars?”  
“Is that all you have to say?”  
“I can't believe you,” Napoleon went over the window, staring down at the street. He wasn't sure how to continue, how to get through her nonsensical attitude. Maybe they would really have to kidnap the fiance … Just then he spotted the man coming towards the building and disappearing from his sight when he entered it. Maybe there was another way. He turned around and walked over to Meryl, who watched him with a scornful expression. He took her hand.  
“I only want your best,” he said quietly.  
“No, you only want your best. But I don't exist to make your organization happy,” she tried to pull back her hand, but he held it tight and then pulled her close. “What are you doing?” she asked.  
“I think I'm going to kiss you,” he leaned forward and did just that. She made an angry sound, but after a moment went limp in his arms. There was a nagging feeling in his stomach – this wasn't right – but it was for a good cause, and if that guy would just hurry up … Finally the door opened and a man loudly exclaimed: “Meryl!”  
Napoleon let go of her instantly and they both stared at Richard Barrows, who stormed towards them. The next second Napoleon went down, blood running from his nose.

He came to a few moments later. His head was hurting, he probably had hit it when he fell. There were voices above him, quiet and angry. He kept his eyes closed.  
“We are getting married in six days and you are kissing another man?”  
“He kissed me! That's a difference. Besides, he's not just another man, he's an UNCLE agent.”  
“What? Again?”  
“Yeah, well.”  
“Now that you say it … he does look familiar. But I told you to stay away from them.”  
“He didn't stay away from me. He's concerned that THRUSH will get my millions.”  
“So, he has to kiss you?”  
“He probably spotted you from the window and wanted to make you jealous.”  
“But … you let him kiss you! You didn't push him away.”  
“Believe me, you wouldn't have as well. He is a really good kisser.”  
“Well, fine. But why did you even let him in?”  
“He has a trustworthy face. Can't we just tell him? You told me UNCLE are the good guys, maybe they'll help us.”  
“It's too risky, Meryl. And there is a mole in UNCLE, if he hears about it ...”  
Napoleon opened his eyes. “A mole?” he sat up groaning. “Who's the mole?”  
Meryl and Richard stared at him and then Meryl offered him her hand, pulling him up. “Apologize,” she told Richard.  
“No,” he answered, crossing his arms. “It was justified.”  
“I agree,” Napoleon said, wiping away the blood with a handkerchief. Suddenly the door burst open, Illya running in, gun in his hand.  
“Napoleon, are you alright?!”  
Richard had taken a step to shield Meryl from the gun, cursing quietly. Napoleon held up his hands.  
“Yes, it's fine, just a nosebleed. This is my partner, Illya Kuryakin. Why don't we all sit down and talk this through?”

A quarter of an hour later Illya and Napoleon had finished their cups of coffee, Napoleon's nosebleed taken care of. “So …,” Napoleon said, “you will make your get-away during the honeymoon. And the money?”  
“We keep just enough to start a new life and donate the rest to charity. One not affiliated with THRUSH,” Meryl offered them more coffee, but they both shook their heads.  
“You see, if you would have come half a year ago, you'd have been right with your suspicions. Richard was set onto me to cheat me out of my money, by any means necessary.”  
“But I made the one mistake you should never do, I fell in love,” he smiled at Meryl, who took his hand. “We've planned our escape carefully and I was afraid that involving anyone, even UNCLE, would be too much of a risk.”  
“Fair enough,” Napoleon leaned back in his seat. “Still, if there is any assistance we can offer ...”  
“No, we are all set. But I believe there is something I can do for you,” Richard got out a notebook and scribbled something on a page. He tore it out and handed it over. “The name of the mole.”  
“Thank you,” Napoleon glanced at it, and then folded it and let it disappear into his pocket. “Well, in that case I believe we are done here.”  
They got up and shook hands.

“I told you, you should not have kissed her,” Illya glanced at the spots of red on Napoleon's shirt, while he waited for the light to turn green.  
“Ah, but they told us the truth because I kissed her.”  
“No, because he punched you and then they took pity on you.”  
“And he punched me because I kissed her,” Napoleon grinned.  
“And is the pain worth it?”  
Napoleon rolled his eyes.

A few days later Illya dropped by the secretaries office to deliver a report to be copied and froze in place at the door. The scene was awfully familiar, Napoleon and Luise standing close together, his arm around her hip.  
“Just say yes. I promise that new club is wonderful.”  
“Oh, I don't know ...”  
“You said you are free tonight … We'll have champagne and dance all evening …,” he pulled her with him for a few steps and she giggled. They stopped in the middle of the room and he bent forward, kissing her neck for a moment. She sighed and then nodded.  
“Alright, I'll go on a date with you.”  
Napoleon let go and looked up, meeting Illya's gaze for a moment. Then, he smiled. “Lovely. It's gonna be a blast.”  
Illya swallowed and turned around on his heel.

Illya rang the doorbell. He knew that Napoleon wouldn't answer since he wasn't even in. He was out on a date with Luise and really, it was better that way. Kissing Meryl had been a bad idea and the plan that was now on Illya's mind – had been on his mind for what felt like an eternity – was an even worse one. He was just about to leave when steps approached from inside and Napoleon opened the door.  
“Ah, it's you. Come in.”  
Illya entered and closed the door behind him, taking in his partner's frame. “You are not dressed for a date,” he stated.  
“Luise canceled on me last minute,” he shrugged.  
“You don't seem to be particularly sad about that.”  
“I'm not. And now that I have company …,” he smiled at Illya softly. The next moment Illya had him pressed against the wall, kissing him hard. This was the most awful and idiotic idea he had ever had and surely Napoleon would … Napoleon went limp against him for a moment and then put his arms around Illya, pulling him close.  
“Finally,” he whispered against Illya's lips when he broke the kiss. “I wasn't sure …,” he reached up and stroke over Illya's cheek. “I'm glad you made up your mind.”  
“And Luise?”  
Napoleon shrugged again. “An incentive.”  
Illya just glared at him and then took his hand to pull him towards the bedroom.

A few days later Illya passed Napoleon the newspaper over breakfast. They were sitting in Napoleon's kitchen, the radio playing some classical music and their hands brushed for a moment. Napoleon smiled at the touch and then glanced over the article about the wedding and subsequent disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Barrows. “Seems they made it,” he said.  
“Yes. And we got the mole.”  
“The old man should finally be happy.”  
“I'm sure the next case will turn up soon,” Illya knocked on the wooden table and then reached for Napoleon's hand.


End file.
